CHAPTER 36
They had driven Rachel to Tina and Martin’s, spent some time with them and the children, arranged to return the hire car to the airport rather than the docks, and were finally on their way home.
On the plane, holding hands, Ella told Franz, ‘Tina and Martin are nice.’
‘Yes, I always liked Tina. She and Rachel were good for each other. And Martin seems a good guy. I hope they won’t use her.’
‘It might be good for her, just to start with, to know she’s of use. She said she missed Kelvin and Max, her mother’s kids. And looking after the children now might help her get on to the nursery course.’
‘She could do a course in London.’
‘Yes. And she could do it here, where her friends are. It’ll give us a good excuse, Franz, to have lots of holidays in Ireland. With our own kids.’
‘Are you sure you’ll want to come back? I thought this trip would put you off Ireland for life! Not to mention, off me.’ The last remark was added casually.
‘Not at all,’ Ella said. ‘I love Ireland, what I’ve seen of it.’
She smiled, waiting for him to react to her absence of comment about him. He turned to look at her, caught the smile, and laughed.
‘Thanks!’ he said. ‘That really reassures me!’
The plane was taxiing down the runway, engines roaring. Conversation was impossible till they were in the air, levelling out into travel height and speed.
‘Seriously,’ he resumed, ‘it wouldn’t surprise me if you’d decided you wanted nothing more to do with me.’
Ella nodded. ‘I want nothing more to do with Franz Kane,’ she said, ‘the person you were before you came out here, and I’m hoping you don't want him any more either. I’m much happier with Franz Kane/Michael Finnucane. They need each other.’
‘Franz Kane was easier to be,’ he said regretfully.
‘But not easier to be with,’ Ella told him.
‘I thought you’d find it the opposite,’ he said, genuinely surprised.
‘Why? Because Franz Kane could cope with anything and never had any problems he couldn’t resolve?’
‘Well – life was simpler, wasn’t it?’
‘No. Life was superficial. Life isn’t like that really, is it? You’re more real now.’
He heaved a deep sigh. ‘I’m not sure I want to be real.’
‘Tough. You don’t have the choice.’
‘I have the power of free choice at all times. I define my own destiny,’ Franz quoted, reciting one of their taught self-affirmations. ‘I can be whatever I choose to be.’
‘Bollocks,’ Ella said.
‘It is, isn’t it? Why didn’t we see that at the time?’
‘There’s an element of truth in it. We can choose how to respond to things.’
‘I didn’t choose how to respond to things last night,’ Franz said. It was the first time he’d referred to his emotional storm behind closed doors.
‘No. But you chose to respond to the letter saying your father was dying and I suppose emotion was the inevitable outcome, so in a way you chose the situation and then had to go with the consequences.’
‘So does that come under defining my own life and destiny?'
‘I’m not sure about that any more,’ Ella said. ‘What is "my own life" anyway? A separate entity alongside everyone else’s lives, or a strand running in and out of life itself, mixed up with everyone else’s? You can’t always see where one person’s ends and the next one begins, and it’s meant to be like that, I think.’
‘You don’t mind my life being mixed up with yours, then?’ Franz asked.
‘Mixed up is right,’ Ella joked. ‘Michael Finnucane, you have the weirdest, most mixed up life story I have ever come across!’
‘Now look who’s talking!’ he countered. ‘Ms Jewish-hippy-New Age lady!’
She laughed. ‘What is this baby going to be like?’
‘Oh, simple,’ Franz said. ‘Just an oldfashioned Catholic Irish Romanian English Jewish New Age hippy guru!’
‘Totally at home in any synagogue, church, tepee, hermitage or open field in Jerusalem, Rome or Dublin or – what’s the capital of Romania?’
‘Budapest. No, that’s Hungary. Bucharest!’
‘Well, he or she will be totally at home there too! You didn’t tell me what the Chinese restaurant guy said when you phoned this morning,’ she suddenly remembered. ‘Had he contacted the hospital about that man, Declan?’
‘Yes. They’re running a few more tests but they think it was a combination of stress and not taking his medication for angina. If they don’t find anything else then they’ll let him go home tomorrow. He was feeling fine and eating breakfast today.’
‘I’m glad he’s okay.’
‘Are you okay, Ella?’ said Franz suddenly, tenderly.
‘Why?’
‘I need to know.’
‘I’m knackered, if you must know. I want to go home and sleep for a week.’
‘Me too. Is sex bad for pregnant mothers?’
‘Not for this one. For this pregnant mother, it’s good.’
‘Is it good for unborn babies?’
‘According to some studies, it promotes the production of beneficial hormones and stimulates antibodies. Why do you ask, Franz?’
‘We’ve got two days’ more holiday. I wondered what you’d like to do with it.’
‘I think we should stimulate a few antibodies, don’t you?’
‘I think we should include that in our schedule, yes.’
They slept till the announcement was made about the plane landing at Heathrow.
‘I didn’t catch that announcement,’ Franz said, waking. ‘Did you?’
‘No, I was asleep.’
Franz leaned over and asked the neighbouring passenger.
‘We’re circling for a while, waiting for landing space,’ he relayed to Ella. ‘There's been some incident at one of the other terminals so there’s a delay.’
‘When was Sharma’s wife arriving? Is that today?’
‘Yes. Which terminal would they come in at?’
‘I don't know. Maybe they’ll be here.’
‘Maybe. The chances of us all landing at the same time and place must be slim, though.’
‘How are we getting back, Franz? Train?’
‘I thought we might get a rental car for a few days. What d’you think? We could use it to go out somewhere tomorrow if you didn’t feel so tired by then.’
‘Great.'
‘We might think about buying a car,’ he said. ‘It would make life easier for you, with the baby. I wouldn’t need it during the day. And we don’t have to use it for everything, do we?’
‘No. We can still walk most places.’
With only hand luggage, once the plane landed they were out into the concourse quickly.
‘There he is!’ said Ella suddenly.
‘Where?’
Following her pointing finger, Franz saw Sharma in the crowd, waiting alone.
‘Poor bloke,’ he said. ‘I hope they show up.’
‘They’re right behind us,’ Ella said, lowering her voice. ‘Why don’t we stand back and wait?’
They stood aside as Sarita, pushing a luggage trolley, walked slowly past with the two small boys, blank-faced with anxiety,. They didn’t notice Franz and Ella, their eyes scanning the crowd.
Suddenly the older boy grabbed the younger one’s arm. ‘Raj! He is there! There’s Daddy!’
The little one came to life. ‘Daddy!’ he yelled.
Sharma’s head jerked round. He saw them and held out his arms as they ran towards him, shoving their way through the crowd, roaring, ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ They flung themselves at him both at once, and he dropped to one knee and caught them both to him, his dark hair and theirs merging as they kissed him as though they would never let him go again.
Ella heard Franz catch his breath and bite back tears.
Sarita slowly, very slowly, approached them then sudden
ly, leaving the baggage cart, she turned back and started running, back towards the carousels and the runways.
Ella stood in her way, barring her with wide-open arms. Sarita, panicking and not recognizing this woman, tried to push her out of the way.
‘Sarita! It’s Ella! Ella and Franz. Don’t run. Don’t run away.’
Sarita’s eyes were terrified, wide and white. ‘I can’t face him! You know what I did to him! What will he say?’
‘It’ll be all right,’ Ella said. ‘Won’t it, Franz?’
‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ Franz said. He made his way through the crowd to where Sharma crouched with the boys clinging on to him, reached over the children and tapped him on the shoulder. Sharma stood up immediately and walked with him towards Sarita and Ella, with the boys holding on to his belt, one on either side.
Sarita, head down and shaking, leaned against Ella.
‘Sarita,’ Sharma said. He put a hand under her chin and lifted her head till she had to look up, at his eyebrows, his hair, his cheeks – everywhere except his eyes.
‘Welcome home,’ he said. ‘Thank you for coming back to me.’
Now she looked him in the eyes and they were both crying. He held out his arms and she let go of Ella and allowed herself to be held. He laid his cheek against her hair and murmured words in a language Ella and Franz had never heard him speak, a private language for this private time. They moved away and left the family to themselves, the little boys holding on to both parents with all their strength.
They had a short wait for the hire car. Ella again felt impatience to be home, an urgency she couldn’t explain.
‘I wasn’t much help to you in Ireland,’ she said to Franz, as they waited to be given the keys. ‘When I think of it, I kept getting sick and faint and tired and wanting to come home.’
‘You were perfect,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t have done it on my own. I’d have had to do all the sickness and tiredness and wanting to go home myself!’
‘Sir, madam? Your car is ready for you now.’ The rep held out the keys and looked questioningly from one to the other.
‘Do you mind if I drive?’ Ella asked Franz. ‘I feel less sick if I have to concentrate on something.’
‘Of course not. You asked me that, in Ireland, and I forgot after the first time,’ he remembered.
‘You had a lot on your mind. Franz, there’s Sharma’s family just coming. Shall we offer to take them?’
‘I’ll go and ask.’
He came back with them.
‘Are you sure?’ Sharma asked. ‘We have a lot of luggage.’
‘We’ll fit it in somehow. You boys may have to sit on somebody’s lap,’ Franz said.
‘I’m sitting on Daddy’s!’ they said in unison, and Sarita and Sharma both laughed.
Sarita was holding on tight to Sharma’s hand, Ella noticed. Driving home, sneaking a look in the rearview mirror, she saw they stayed holding hands all the way back to London. Sarita’s eyes when she looked at Sharma were anxious, as though checking out his state of mind, but when he looked back at her, she smiled.
Forgiveness transforms things, Ella thought. And people. Sharma’s normal air of solemnity was gone. Joy encased him as he was encased by his sons, who had settled for sitting on one knee each, with their arms entwined around their father and each other.
Ella imagined Franz like that, with a son or daughter on his lap, holding them and being hugged back. Seeing him glance towards the back seat and smile at the boys, she thought he was imagining it as well.
Franz had actually forgotten to switch on his phone when they left the airport and only remembered it when they were half an hour away from home. Over the chattering of the children in the back, he listened to his messages and tried dialling a number, then tried again. Ella saw his expression change.
‘What is it?’ she said quickly.
‘There’s a message from Alison, left an hour ago, saying call her back immediately, and another one ten minutes later saying, "Call now, urgent." I can’t get any answer from the Healing Place, the front desk or my office.’
‘Her mobile?’
‘I’m trying it now. Someone should have answered at the Healing Place. There are phone points all over the building where she can pick up the calls if she has to leave the desk. Alison! It’s Franz. What’s the problem?’
Ella saw his face go white. The boys in the back seat let out a shriek of laughter and scuffled with each other.
‘Guys,’ she said. ‘Quiet a moment.’
‘Be still,’ Sharma warned them. He was alert now, watching Franz too.
‘Have you called the police? Fire brigade?’ Franz asked. ‘Right. Is everyone out of the building?’
‘Oh God,’ said Ella.
Ahead of them, the traffic slowed to a halt.
‘Ella, take the next turnoff,’ Sharma said. ‘You can double back and go down the A road, I forget which one it is, and get on to the South Circular.’
‘Okay.’
‘What!’ said Franz into the phone. ‘You are joking, aren’t you? Alison, get one of the firemen to go in and tell them from me …. Bloody hell! Ring me back when you can. We’re about half an hour away, with any luck.’
‘What?’ Ella said, when he rang off.
‘There’s been a phone call to say there’s a bomb in the building, and someone thought they saw smoke coming from my office. The security guard called the police and the fire brigade but there were over five hundred people in there and some of them won’t leave.’
‘Won’t leave?’
‘The Aura Cleansing group say they’re staying in there to pour positive energy into the place and defuse the harm, and the transcendental meditators say the Healing Place is a sacred space so there’s no risk at all.’
‘Foolish people,’ said Sharma soberly. ‘They don’t know what it is they’re opposing.’
‘What are they opposing?’ asked Ella quickly.
‘Conspiracy. This is part of something more serious.’
‘More serious?’ said Franz.
‘I think so. Who are your enemies, Franz?’
‘God knows. I can’t think. Why are we going this way?’
‘The traffic jam on the motorway gets worse further ahead,’ Sharma said.
‘Good man,’ said Franz. ‘You must be psychic?’ he added, trying to make light of the situation, but no one laughed.
'It's the traffic report on his smartphone,' said Sharma's elder son, Roheet, seriously. The boys were looking worried again. They clung even more tightly to their father.
‘When we get there, Ella, get as close as you can and drop me off,’ said Franz.
‘You’re not going in there?’ she said.
‘Not if everyone has come out,’ he assured her.
She didn’t feel reassured. ‘Leave it to the fire brigade, Franz,’ she pleaded.
‘The fire crew have tried. They’re sending for more police to try and drag them out but there are a hundred or more still in there. The firemen need to concentrate: they can’t find the source of the fire but there’s heat coming out of the walls at different places.’
Ella looked in the driving mirror and saw Sharma close his eyes, focusing on something nobody saw. She felt a heavy weight of dread in the pit of her stomach and hoped it wouldn’t be felt by the baby. She made herself stay calm and concentrate on the road ahead where mercifully the traffic was thinning and flowing freely.
‘Take a right here,’ Sharma said, without opening his eyes. Ella obeyed without questioning. ‘Cut round the back of the station, go along by the canal, then through the shopping centre.’
‘The shopping centre will be crowded,’ Franz said.
‘No.’
It wasn’t, unusually for a popular place at this time of evening.
‘Will the road be closed by the Healing Place, do you know?’ Ella asked Sharma.
‘Yes, but go to the Fischel Road end. Stop by the church.’
‘Fra
nz, why don’t you phone Phil?’ Ella said. ‘If he opened the church gates we could park on the grass.’
‘I don’t have his number.’
‘I do,’ Sharma said.
He checked the number and recited it and Franz dialled. ‘Hi, it’s Franz Kane. Yes, I’ve just heard. We’re on our way back, nearly there, with Sharma and family as well. Is there any way we can leave the car there? Thanks. Right. See you.’
‘He’s got the police to evacuate everyone into the church,’ Franz said. ‘They’ll have to stay around for questioning. The bomb squad have just arrived.’
‘Next turning, Ella,’ said Sharma.
Ella saw crowds of people, road barricades, and police trying to keep everyone moving into the church. ‘I can’t see Phil,’ she said. ‘Can you see if the gate’s open, Franz?’
‘Let me out here,’ he said suddenly.
‘Franz, please don’t go into the building!’
But he had gone. She stopped the car and got out, just in time to see him jump the barricade and run towards the Healing Place.
Sharma jumped out of the car and began to run after Franz. Sarita screamed.
‘Sharma! Sharma, don’t leave me!’
Ella caught hold of his arm. ‘Don’t, Sharma!’
‘I can’t let him go in there on his own!’
‘Sharma,’ Ella said, ‘stay with Sarita. Look, she’s distraught.’
He hesitated and Sarita flung her arms round him. ‘Please, Sharma! Please, darling, don’t go! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’
A man behind Ella pushed her aside, shouted, ‘Sorry!’over his shoulder, jumped the barricade and ran after Franz – a tall, broadshouldered man with a mop of unruly black hair.
‘Mick!’ he yelled as he ran, catching up with Franz just before he pulled open the doors. 'Micky Finn!'
‘Who is that man?’ Sharma asked.
‘I think,’ said Ella, ‘that just might be Pat Quinn.’ If she had hoped he would stop Franz from going in, she was mistaken. He wrenched the door open and ran into the building before him.
Sharma made a move to follow them.
‘Sharma,’ Ella said, ‘this is where you should be. Please.’
He looked at Sarita, who was crying and at his elder son who, blank-faced with fear once again, was staring at him, and at the younger boy who was clinging to his father’s leg, not understanding what was happening.
'Okay,’ he said. ‘Come, children. We’ll go into the church. Leave the cases for now. Ella, are you coming?’
‘I’ll wait here. I can’t get to the church gates to park the car yet anyway. I’ll catch up with you later. Go.’
Inside the building, Franz shouted, ‘I’m the owner!’ to the policeman who tried to stop him, and ran for the main hall. The transcendental meditation group sat, some completely entranced, on the floor, but most looked up nervously as he ran in.
‘Get out of here!’ Franz shouted.
Pat ran round the edge of the hall roaring at everyone, ‘Get the fock out of here, ye bloody eejits!’
Like sheepdogs working, they herded the eighty or so people between them, on to their feet and into the foyer, where a back-up group of police, just arriving, bundled them roughly out into the street and shouted at them to go down to the church and wait there.
‘Any more?’ Pat shouted at Franz.
‘Upstairs!’
Pat followed him as he took the stairs three at a time and ran to the large upstairs hall where the Aura Cleansing group met. Franz smelt smoke but couldn’t see it.
‘Get out of here!’ he roared at the group guides, a male couple who were exhorting their students to breathe out cleansing energy. ‘Now!’
The two began to protest, though the students at the back of the room didn’t wait for a second invitation and ran for the door.
‘Take the back stairs!’ Franz shouted after them. ‘Don’t go near the office!’
Pat had grabbed the couple of guides by the collars of their embroidered shirts and was hauling them bodily towards the door. They resisted.
‘Get a fucking move on!’ he roared. ‘Or I’ll throw yez out of the window!’
They ran, more scared of Pat than of any bomb.
‘Are you in charge?’ one of the firemen asked Pat.
‘He is – your man with the white hair.’
‘Will you check your office? Any unfamiliar objects in there? We can’t find the source of the smoke but it seems to be coming from there.’
‘Sure.’
Pat was two steps behind Franz.
‘You go now,’ Franz told him. ‘I’ll see you outside.’
‘I’m staying.’
Franz gave in, remembering Pat’s reputation for stubbornness. He checked the office. The safe was intact, though the lock looked as though it might have been tampered with.
‘Anything not normally there?’ asked the fireman.
‘That tin case on the bookshelf.’ The smoke looked thicker around it but there were no flames or other signs of fire.
‘Right. Get Bomb Disposal up here!’ the fireman called to a colleague, who ran. ‘Now get out of here,’ he told Pat and Franz. 'The police will want to talk to you - down at the church at the end of the road.'
Franz got on the phone to Alison. ‘Anyone else stayed in the building? No? You’re sure? Okay. Let’s go,’ he told Pat.
‘So, you’re the boss here, I’m told by Alison,’ Pat said conversationally as they ran downstairs.
‘Yes.’
‘The one on the phone when I rang that day?’
‘Sorry about that. I was hiding. Not from you. From myself.’
‘I thought it might be you but I was thrown by the London accent.’
‘I see you haven’t picked that up yet!’
‘Not me. Born a Dubliner, die a Dub!’
Outside in the street, Franz said, ‘Thanks, Pat. Talk about timing!’
‘The site where I’m working is only up the road. We heard the news from one of the delivery drivers. I thought it must be your place. They wouldn’t let me in, till you came along.’
‘They didn’t let you in then!’
‘No, but I figured – old friend of the big boss man, who’d keep me out?’ He slapped Franz on the back. ‘The old team, eh? Finn and Quinn win again!’
Franz laughed, despite himself. Looking up at the building he saw smoke billowing from his office window. Where was the fire coming from?
‘And to think last week I was worried about a crack in the ceiling!’ he murmured.
‘Which turned out to be nothing,’ Pat told him.
‘Really?’
‘I don’t know who told you there was a serious problem,’ Pat said forthrightly, ‘but they either didn’t know their arse from their elbow or they had a grudge against you.’
A picture of Mick Murphy, Marisa’s dad, the man who had come to beat Franz up for risking his daughter’s safety and had ended up getting free drinks out of him all evening, came into Franz’s mind. ‘He did have a grudge against me,’ he said, realization dawning on him.
‘The floor joists above have a bit of movement in them, that’s all,’ Pat said, ‘which is not a bad thing in itself, and the movement cracked the plaster slightly. It might need patching over again in the future but I fixed it in no time.’
‘You fixed it?’
‘Plastered over it. In no time,’ he repeated.
‘Thanks. I owe you.’
‘Buy me a pint sometime. How about I call over and see you one day in the week, if you’re not still in hiding?’
‘Come and eat with us tomorrow evening?’
‘I’ll do that. I finish about six o’clock. I’ll go home and have a wash after, or your Ella won’t want to know me, and be round to yours about seven, all right? You can text me the address.’
‘Fine.’ Franz gave him a pat on the shoulder and Pat wheeled round and caught Franz up in a bearhug that knocked the breath out of him.
&n
bsp; ‘It’s great to see you, Mick! And I’m sorry to hear about your da. I liked him. He was a good old fellow.’
He released him and strode off, leaving Franz struggling with a sudden wave of emotion. He stood for a moment, then turned to go down the road to the church.
The crowds outside the church were clearing as the police moved them on through the big double oak doors but inside, the building was packed with people, with their coats and bags scattered around the pews. Extra chairs had been put out in the aisles.
I bet it’s the best congregation Phil’s had in a while, thought Franz with grim amusement.
He saw Alison the other side of the church, going through the appointments book with a policewoman, no doubt checking the visitors for that day and the day before. Like trying to find a needle in a haystack, Franz thought.
Phil came into the church from a back door, with seven young people carrying trays of tea and coffee. He sent them in different directions to serve all the Healing Place evacuees. Catching sight of Franz, he waved and made his way over to him.
‘Thanks for doing all this,’ Franz said.
‘No problem. Any news?’
‘There’s a tin case in my office which they think might be another bomb. Alison said they found the first one in the basement: the maintenance man saw a sack there and heard something ticking and called Alison.’
‘How would someone get in undetected, carrying bombs?’
‘There are people coming and going all the time. Even with reception and security, you can’t keep track of everyone. Someone could easily attach themselves to a group of people coming in, without attracting attention. There’s smoke coming from somewhere and heat coming from the walls, so Alison said, but they can’t find out where it’s from.’
‘Do you have a ducted heating system? Or air conditioning?’
‘Air conditioning. I’ll go and get them to check.’
‘Phone them,’ Phil said. ‘There’s no need to go back in.’
‘I’ll need to show them where the vents are.’
‘You can explain on the phone,’ Phil said. As Franz hesitated, he said, ‘Think of Ella. And the baby.’
‘Right. Actually, there is a plan of the aircon system stored in the Cloud if I can access it.’
A police officer approached him. ‘Are you the manager of the building?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll need to ask you a few questions, sir.’
‘Sure. Can I ask you first to contact the fire team? I need to tell them where the air conditioning ducts lead out.’
‘I’ll call them. Can we use a back room here, Reverend?’
‘Use my office,’ said Phil. ‘And Franz, you can use my computer in there. This way.’
The 'Reverend' had a truly chaotic office, Franz noted – a hybrid mix of library with floor-to-ceiling shelves of books, office with overpiled desk, and playroom with children’s drawings stuck on the back of the door and a blackboard easel and jar of coloured chalks in one corner. The carpet was torn. It looked homely.
‘I’ll send some tea in for you,’ said Phil. ‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Don’t bother. You’ve got enough on your hands,’ said Franz.
‘No bother. Where’s Ella?
‘I left her waiting for the crowds to clear so she could park the car in your grounds. You haven’t seen her?’
‘I’ll find her,’ Phil said.
He came back with Ella and a tray of tea and biscuits, as the police officer was establishing that Franz could tell him nothing of immediate value.
‘We’ll continue with our enquiries, sir,’ he said finally, ‘and we’ll be in touch with you. You’ve no objection to our checking your bank accounts, then?’
‘No.’
As the officer went out, Ella asked Franz, ‘Why are they checking your bank account?’
‘If I was skint they might assume I’d set the place on fire myself, to claim on the insurance.’
‘You’re not skint, are you?’
‘No. Do you need us to get out of this room?’ Franz asked Phil.
‘No, you’re all right for the moment. There are several other rooms the police can use for interviews. Take a breather. This must be a shock for you.’
‘It was a shock,’ Franz said, ‘when I heard there were people refusing to leave the building. But if I’m honest, for one second my reaction to the news that a bomb might go off and blow the whole place sky-high was relief.’
‘Me too,’ Ella said promptly.
‘Really?’ Phil perched on the edge of the desk and looked at them both with interest. ‘Something’s changed, since you went away,’ he commented. ‘May I ask what?’
‘My father died,’ Franz said.
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
‘Look, we ought to be helping with the war effort out there, not sitting here drinking tea!’ Franz said. 'But Ella should go home.'
‘You should both go home,’ Phil said. ‘There’s nothing you can do here. The police could take hours questioning people and they can phone you if they want you. Get some rest while you can. I am sorry, Franz, to hear your news. Let me know if you want an ear or anything, any time.’
‘Thanks. I will.’